by Tim Kehoe
“Oh, man!” I suddenly remembered the other woman in the photo album. “Your mom! Do you have a picture of her?” I stood up. “There was one other woman in the photo album. Her picture was right before yours.”
Mike ran to the living room and grabbed a picture of Trish and a woman sitting on a dock.
“Here,” he said. “This is our mom.”
I looked at the photo and my heart sank. “That’s her,” I said. “That was the other woman in the book.”
“Are you sure?” Mike asked.
“I don’t forget much,” I said. “Where is she now?”
“At work.”
“Call her right now. Tell her to leave wherever she is and meet us behind the Piggly Wiggly.”
Mike didn’t move.
“I’m not messing around, Mike.” I helped Trish to her feet. “Grab your phone and call her from the truck. We’ve got to get out of here now in case Anton is coming here to kill Trish first.”
“Who’s Anton?” Mike asked.
“Bailey’s dad,” I said. “He’s a former CIA assassin who now works for the Salvatores.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
* * *
The three of us jumped into Duane’s truck and headed toward town while Mike tried to reach his mom.
“She’s not answering!” he yelled.
“Try her at work,” Trish said.
“I did. I called her cell and her work. No one is answering.”
“Where does your mom work?”
“Cannova’s on Main,” Trish said.
Of course she does, I thought. I should have guessed.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” Mike said. “How can no one be answering at the restaurant?”
I stepped down harder on the gas. The truck sprung forward and let out a roar.
“Why do you have Duane’s truck?” Trish asked.
“I was walking out here to warn you guys when Duane and his buddies pulled up.”
“Duane and his buddies?” Mike repeated. “Geez, Finbar, don’t tell me you broke their noses too.”
“It’s Furious. Remember? Furious Jones. And no, I didn’t break their noses. Let’s just say my good-luck amulet ended up actually being good luck.”
“That ugly eye thing?”
“No. A different one. I think the eye was unlucky.”
“I think you’re right,” Mike agreed.
“Who are you really?” Trish asked. “And how did you get mixed up in all of this?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I recently found out my mom worked for the CIA. And the CIA found out about all the Illinois state witnesses being placed in Galena. They sent an assassin to Galena to investigate. Well, it turns out he was working for the Salvatores.”
“And that was Bailey’s dad?”
“Yup,” I said. “Instead of helping, he started killing the witnesses in town. And he made them all look like accidents.”
“God, of course. The hay baler, the family at the bait store, that guy with the milking machine, all of those were murders,” Trish said.
“I hadn’t heard about all of those, but yeah,” I said. “That’s the kind of stuff he was doing.”
“How do you know all of this?” Mike asked.
“Well, the CIA sent my mom here after Anton, Bailey’s dad, wasn’t stopping the murders. She figured out that Anton was working for the Salvatores—so he killed her.”
“How do you know all of this?” Trish asked.
“Well, my dad used to be an investigative reporter, and he came to Galena after my mom’s death and investigated.”
“Where is your dad now?” Trish asked.
“He’s dead,” I said. “The Salvatores killed him, too. But not before he wrote everything down. He—”
“Look!” Trish interrupted, pointing up the road. “That’s Duane and his buddies.”
“It looks like they’re up and moving again,” I said.
“That’s too bad,” Mike said.
Duane must have recognized the roar of his truck, because he and his buddies were all moving to the middle of the highway.
“Are they really going to play chicken against a two-ton truck?” I stepped on the gas and brought the truck up to sixty-five miles an hour. The increased roar frightened two of the guys, but the other four stood fast. We were about three-quarters of a mile and closing fast.
“This guy is crazy.”
Another one of Duane’s buddies bailed. The three smart ones were standing on the right side of the road. I figured I could swerve to the left and miss the guys in the street.
I stepped on the gas a little more, and the last two guys called it quits. Now it was just Duane versus Duane’s truck.
“Slow down, Fin—or Furious. He’s crazy. He’s not going to move,” Mike said.
I took my foot off the pedal a bit.
“He’ll move,” I said. But we were closing fast and Duane wasn’t flinching. Was he blind? Could he see us? Had the ghost pepper permanently blinded him? I took my foot completely off the gas and began to coast. The roar of the truck let up a little. We were now two hundred feet from crushing Duane but still had plenty of room to move off to the shoulder and cruise right past him.
Just as I was about to turn the wheel, my head was slammed against the cab wall.
“Screw that!” Trish yelled as she stomped on the gas pedal. Duane never did flinch, but I managed to swerve and miss him by a couple of inches.
“My god, Trish, you could have killed him!”
“We weren’t going to kill him,” Trish said, “but I’m tired of bullies like Duane ruining my life.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
* * *
I parked the truck in front of Cannova’s.
“That’s weird,” Mike said. “The CLOSED sign is in the window.”
We climbed out of the truck and looked in the window. The restaurant was empty. I wiggled the door handle. The front door was locked.
“The alley,” Mike said. “There’s a door off the alley.”
We ran around the block and found the door. I motioned to Mike and Trish to be quiet as I opened it. The kitchen looked empty. We stepped inside.
“Where’s my mom?” Mike cried. “She’s not here.”
I stepped quietly into the restaurant dining room. Nothing. I opened the door and looked down the street.
“I think that’s Douglas’s car down there.”
“Who’s Douglas?” Trish asked.
“My mom’s old boss,” I said.
“At the CIA?”
“Yeah. I saw him in town earlier this week. I think he’s working with the Salvatores too.”
Mike checked the bathrooms and I checked behind the bar. No sign of Anton, Trish’s mom, or Douglas.
“What now?” Trish asked. “Where is she?”
“Sheriff Daniels,” Mike said. “We have to tell Daniels.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. We had no other choice. “Let’s walk down the alley.” I didn’t need another run-in with Douglas.
We all walked back into the kitchen and headed for the door when a sound came from behind us. I turned around to see a man closing the door to the walk-in freezer. Our eyes locked. No one said a word. I recognized him from the picture. It was Bailey’s dad.
“Hello,” he said.
“Where’s my mom?” Trish demanded.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re—”
Trish started to cross the room and the man pulled a gun out of his waistband.
“Now, now, missy. Let’s just calm down.”
“Where is she?” Trish demanded again.
“Oh, she’s close. You’ll see her soon enough.” The guy cleared his throat. “I’m actually glad you’re all here. It saves me a lot of running around.”
“Sheriff Daniels is on his way,” I lied. “He’s got Bailey. He knows all about you, Anton.”
The guy stared at me. I felt like I was going cry. He looked cold. Brutal.
“Y
ou’re not a very good liar, Furious. Your mother would be so disappointed. But maybe you take after your dad. He also had a hard time making things up and felt the need to steal other people’s stories.”
I felt my chest expanding and could hear the blood pumping hard through my ears. My face was burning. I could tell he was dead set on killing us all.
“Did you kill my mom?”
Anton chuckled a little and started to speak when a small explosion cut him off. Trish had thrown a metal pan at him. It smashed into the metal freezer door just above his head.
He had deflected the pan with his left arm and raised the gun with his right. “You just made my job easier. I don’t normally enjoy killing young people, but now . . .” He walked to the oven and turned on a large exhaust fan. It rattled and shook to life. “Muffles the gunfire,” he said. “And the screaming.”
“There are a ton of people out there on the street. They’ll hear you. Please don’t,” Mike begged.
“Really? They didn’t hear your mo—”
Trish was halfway across the room before he could finish the word “mom.” I heard another scream and then a gunshot. Trish’s body hit the floor. She was five feet in front of me. I could see blood pooling around her as I raced to her side.
Anton pointed the gun at me.
“Back!”
I put my hands up in the air but stayed by Trish’s side.
Mike fell to the floor crying.
“Shut up, kid.” He pointed the gun at Mike.
Bang!
Bang!
Two more explosions. These were louder than the last. The sound echoed off the ceramic walls and floor. I leaned over to cover Trish’s body. My ears were ringing. Mike was screaming, and Anton fell to the floor in front of me.
“What the—”
I was yelling, but I couldn’t hear my own voice. I looked up. It was Douglas. His face was now bandaged. He looked just like Duane. And he was pointing his gun at me now.
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
I looked down at Trish. She had been shot in the shoulder. She was bleeding badly.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear her response. My ears were still ringing. Mike was yelling. Blood was pumping.
“Back up, Furious,” Douglas yelled as he pushed Mike toward me.
I covered my ears. God, it hurt. I stood up and walked backward. Mike was yelling something that I couldn’t make out.
“What? My ears.” I covered my ears again. “I can’t hear.”
Douglas kept his gun pointed at me as he walked toward Anton.
He was yelling now. “I told you to back up. Now!”
I put my hands in the air and continued to back up.
“Against the counter. Both of you.” Douglas motioned for Mike and me to take several more steps backward while he leaned over Anton and checked for signs of life. I backed up until I hit the counter.
Douglas was opening his mouth to say something and then turned toward the door when three more shots rang out. These were muffled. Soft deep thuds. I watched as three bullets ripped through Douglas’s soft down vest. Small feathers flew from the holes as Douglas collapsed on top of Anton.
CHAPTER SIXTY
* * *
Attorney General Como’s athletic body filled the doorway to the dining room. I swore he was wearing the same effortless politician’s smile he had worn the night I’d met him at my dad’s lecture.
“Hi, Furious,” Como said, holding a handgun with a long silencer on the end. “I got your message. I’m glad you reached out to me.”
“I’m glad you showed,” I said as I lowered my arms. “How did you find me here?”
“Well, I’ve got a friend or two at the CIA. They told me how to find Douglas and, given Douglas’s concern with your family, I figured Douglas would find you. And I was right.”
“You knew Douglas was working for the mob?” I asked.
“The mob?” Como asked, sounding offended. “No one uses that term anymore. Mobsters are uneducated, unorganized street punks. The syndicate is a multinational concern with great wealth and power.”
“The Salvatore syndicate. You knew he was working for the Salvatores and you didn’t stop him?”
“Douglas working for the syndicate?” Como laughed. “Don’t be silly. What would they want with him? He’s a Boy Scout, for crying out loud. A real pain in the rear.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, looking at Trish bleeding.
“Obviously,” Como said, pointing his gun at me. “You don’t get to where I am in life, Furious, without having the right friends. The proper connections.”
“The Salvatores? You’re working for the Salvatores?”
He raised his gun and was now pointing it at my head. “I don’t work for anyone, son. I’m about to become the president of the United States. But you don’t get there without a little help. The Salvatores take care of my problems and, in exchange, I provide them with information.”
“Like where the government places its witnesses?” I asked.
“Yeah, stuff like that.” He smiled. “It’s just business, Furious. And”—he motioned toward Anton’s body on the floor—“with Douglas out of the picture, life just got a lot easier for me and the Salvatores. But they aren’t going to be happy about Anton. He was a rock star. I mean, he killed your mom. He killed the famous Carson Kidd. Do you know how difficult that was?”
I took a step toward him, and he pulled the trigger. The gun flashed and a bullet whizzed by my head.
“Whoa, I’m a little rusty.” He smiled. “Admittedly it has been a long time since I had to hold a gun, but killing is a little like riding a bike—it’ll come back to me.” He paused and then started to pace in front of the oven.
“It’s a shame, really. I mean, I don’t enjoy this kind of stuff. Not really. Not like these kinds of guys.” He motioned again to Anton’s body on the floor. “This is your dad’s fault. I mean your mom was just doing her job, I can’t blame her for that, but your dad had options.”
“I thought you said you were friends with my dad.”
“Friends?” He laughed. “In my line of work you don’t need friends, you need leverage. And when you showed up at your dad’s reading, I thought I finally had it. Did you see his face when he walked onstage and saw us sitting together? I thought for sure he would realize that I meant it when I said I’d kill you if he published the book. With you at my side, I thought for sure he would call off the whole thing. Retract the book and tell everyone to go home. And I think he came close. He paused several times. I mean, did you see how upset he was?” Como laughed.
“In my line of work you end up with a lot of powerful friends and powerful enemies.” Then he chuckled again and added, “And sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.”
I thought about that night. The last night of my dad’s life. He was so upset to see me. Or, at least, I’d thought he was upset to see me. I’d thought he didn’t want me there. I’d thought it was just one more example of me disappointing him.
“You?” I felt my chest tighten again. “You had my dad killed? And my grandpa?”
“Oh, you’re giving me too much credit. I don’t have that kind of power. The Salvatores had your parents killed. I couldn’t help your mom. She dug her own grave when she discovered what was going on here. But your dad. Your dad was all about avenging your mom’s death. All about using his popularity to—”
He paused and then smiled. “It’s kind of ironic, really. I mean, your dad makes a career out of exploiting your mom, and then, in the end, tries to exploit her for good. Is that irony? I don’t know, but I think that’s irony.”
“You’re not going to get away with it,” I said.
Como laughed again. “God, you’ve got so much of your mom—”
Trish let out a weak cough and Como stopped midsentence. He looked down at Trish and then at Anton and Douglas.
“Where is your mom?” C
omo asked Trish. He sounded like he was talking to an infant. I looked back at the counter for something I could use as a weapon as Como repeated the question to Trish.
Trish didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure she was conscious.
Como pointed the pistol at her and repeated the question again.
“Where is your mom?” he asked. “They’re going to want to know the job is done.”
“Leave her alone!” Mike roared.
Como smiled. “You must be big brother.”
Mike started to cry. “Leave us alone! Please!”
Then Como casually pointed his gun at Mike and fired. He didn’t miss this time, and I watched as a bullet entered Mike’s foot. The momentum flung him around and he fell to the ground.
“Stop!” I yelled.
He looked back at me. “Oh, we’ll get to you soon enough.”
“We told the sheriff,” I lied again. “He’s on his way.”
“Please. Are you serious, Furious?” He laughed. “Ha, that rhymed.” He continued to smile. “I’m not worried about a small-town sheriff.”
He pointed the gun back at me, and I figured this was it. I was sure he would pull the trigger. The guy was absolutely delusional. Everything in my life was gone. He had ripped everything away and now he would end it all.
“I think he already killed her,” I said. “Trish’s mom. I think Anton killed her and put her in the freezer.” I motioned to the freezer door behind him. I had to buy time. “He was walking out of there when we came in.”
He turned toward the freezer door and lowered his gun. “He was coming out of here?”
“Yes.” You stupid jerk.
“Strange.”
He kept the gun pointed in my direction as he backed up. Mike looked at me through his tears and cried harder.
Como switched the gun from his right hand to his left and reached for the freezer door. I looked over my left shoulder. There were a colander and a whisk on the counter.
Como glanced back at us as he pulled the freezer door open. He turned his head to look in. I glanced over my right shoulder. There was nothing on the counter to my right.